


I loved you, (don't forget that.)

by dogboy182



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogboy182/pseuds/dogboy182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank left, and Gerard is alone. But just because Frank left doesn't mean that he wanted to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rough, dark, musty. Gerard curls in on himself, cursing the morning light. His knees pull to his chest, his fingers grip the black sheets as he tugs them carelessly and angrily over his head.  
  
 _Soft, white, glowing sunlight. Waking up to the best sight in the world, he welcomed the soft skin against his. He loved waking up in the white sheets, next to the other half of his heart._  
  
The room smells of alcohol; sharp, stinging, and sickening to his stomach. His throat burns raw with tears and whatever his poison of choice had been last night as he swallows pointless air, his eyes sting with a dry itch. His fingers raise to his face and rub sharply and tightly into the corner of his right eye. The man lets out a low, soft moan of regret.  
 _  
The gentle and familiar scent of coffee and cigarettes flooded his senses, his body moving softly against that of his lover's. A soft smile pushed the skin near his eyes up and he felt himself drowning in the warmth._  
  
He rolls over in the sticky expanse of the bed, upset and over-heated by the dark sheets, their fabric clinging to every inch of his nude form.  
His shoulders arch forward, the muscles in his arms flex. He runs through the motions of movement, of angry shifting and rolling and stretching. He moves with reckless anger until the sheets peel themselves away from his skin.  
 _  
Gentle and airy, the sheets fluttered down around them as Gerard looked into the eyes of his lover, giggling softly, rolling over and pressing his body tight against the beautiful form that was next to him._  
  
Gerard hates the way the sweat feels, he hates the way his hair clings to the sides of his face. He feels slimy, gritty in some places, and he cannot deny the overall feeling of dirtiness, the gross guilt that surrounds him.  
 _  
Honey sweet, rolling softly, Gerard's hips rose against the gentle, smooth, warm work of art that he was so in love with, his lover's tattooed skin slipping smoothly across his._  
  
Parts of him feel horribly violated, others, sorely neglected.  
He closes his eyes and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it in a weak imitation of a lover's kiss.  
 _  
He tasted so warm, so soft. The cold metal of his lip ring brushed Gerard's bottom lip, sending a smooth shiver down his spine. They moved like magic together, like two silk clothes falling soft together onto cotton sheets._  
  
His eyes close, squeeze shut as tight as he can force. His head aches- pounds. The tight closing of his eyes is only making it worse, he knows, but he needs to find some way to get moisture into his stinging eyes.  
He wants to cry. Desperately, he wants to cry  
He feels miserable, neglected. He can still feel the dirty body of last night's distraction beneath his broken form, her skin sticking to his with hot sweat and guilty sex.  
 _  
He was always so gentle, he always treated Gerard like he would break. His fingers skimmed down Gerard's skin, and back up his chest. He smiled, laughed, loved. He was perfection in it's most brilliant form, and he had chosen Gerard as his._  
  
Gerard is lonely. He is deeply, achingly, disgustingly lonely. He misses his lover like he misses cigarettes, he misses his lover like he misses the ability to feel any emotion besides sadness and regret.  
 _  
He kissed the hollow of Gerard's neck, the gentle dip of skin between Gerard's collar bones. He smiled against Gerard's neck, told him that he was beautiful. His lips rolled softly against Gerard's skin, his teeth slid smooth. He loved Gerard with every ounce of his very being, he made sure Gerard knew that._  
  
He curls tighter in on himself, as together as he can allow himself to be. His chest aches, deep and hollow. He feels something low in his stomach tighten and roll and fill itself with sadness. His head pounds and constricts his emotions to nothing but dull pain. His skin feels tight, he feels trapped. He wants to slit his wrists and free himself from his own body.  
 _  
His lover kissed every inch of Gerard's skin, every spot. He ran his fingers down every ache, traced his tongue across every sore spot, pressed his lips against every bad thought and cured it with the promise that Gerard was beautiful. He cured it with the promise that Gerard was loved._  
  
The real relief he needs, though, he knows is half way across the world. The cure to this pain is somewhere off enjoying himself, probably getting new ink that says he doesn't care about the trembling soul he had left in the hotel on this same night last year.  
 _  
Gerard woke one morning to the absence of his lover. He looked around the room, spotted the roses and the note. He smiled. He expected, "Out for coffee. I'm bringing you some, too, don't worry. I love you. See you soon, sweetheart." His fingers petted the roses, ran smoothly across the card as he opened it._  
  
Gerard presses both hands against his face. He still wants to cry.  
  
 _He had not expected, "I'm sorry. I loved you, don't forget that. Don't try to find me. Goodbye." His fingers curled into the notecard in shock. Tears stung at his eyes. Nothing made sense. Frank was special, couldn't he just stay? Or was he trying to kill Gerard, intentionally hurting him like this?_  
  
Frank had taken his cigarettes when he left that night, and Gerard hasn't bought another pack since.  
But Frank had left behind booze.  
Frank had left behind a lot of fucking booze.  
And Gerard, well, he planned on drowning himself in it.


	2. I loved you, (did you forget that?)

Smooth, bright, clear. Frank stretches out, appreciating the morning light. He arches his back, head pressing into his pillow, legs and hips and shoulders pressing into the mattress. His fingers run through his hair, carelessly.  
  
 _Gentle, creamy, sweet sunlight. He loved waking up to the best sight in the world, he always welcomed the soft skin against his. He loved waking up in the white sheets, next to the other half of his heart.  
_  
His whole house smells of bleach; clean, stinging, and burning in his lungs. His throat burns raw with screams and the scent of fresh bleach from last night as he swallows pointless air, his fingers are dry with an annoying itch. His hands curl as he digs his fingernails sharply and tightly into his palms. The man lets out a low, soft sigh of annoyance.  
  
 _The gentle and familiar scent of coffee and cigarettes and artist's ink flooded his senses, his body moved softly against that of his lover's. A loving smile pushed the skin near his eyes up and he felt himself basking in the warmth.  
_  
He rolls over in the soft expanse of the bed, comforted and cooled by the white sheets, their fabric loosely brushing every inch of his nude form.  
His shoulders roll backwards, the muscles in his arms flex. He runs through the motions of movement, of lazy shifting and rolling and stretching. He moves with gentle carelessness until he is comfortable.  
  
 _Gentle and airy, the sheets fluttered down around them as Frank's lover meets his eyes, the man beneath him giggling softly, rolling over and pressing his gorgeous body tight against Frank's.  
_  
Frank loves the way being clean feels, he loves the way his freshly washed hair falls in sweet curls. He feels so pristine, so clean all over, and he cannot deny the overall feeling of rightness, the sweet perfection that surrounds him. Everything was so clean and he adored it.  
  
 _Honey warm, rolling softly, his lover's soft, pale, beautiful hips rose sweetly against Frank's tattooed form.  
_  
Parts of him feel wonderfully spotless, others, sorely so.  
He closes his eyes and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it in a weak imitation of a lover's kiss.  
  
 _He tasted so perfect, so gentle. His warm lips pressed down on Frank's lip ring, the cool metal creating a strange contrast, sending a smooth shiver down his spine. They moved like magic together, like two silk cloths falling soft together onto cotton sheets.  
_  
He curls his hand into a fist, scratches his palm roughly. His hands hurt- sting like hell. The scratching is only making the stinging worse, he knows, but he needs to find some way to get rid of the dry itch that never seems to leave.  
He wants to be clean. Desperately, he wants to be clean.  
He feels miserable, disgusting. He can still feel the chemicals of last night's distraction beneath his hands, the bleach and other things turning his skin rough and dry from constant use.  
  
 _Frank made sure he was always so gentle, he always treated his lover like he would break, and with good reason. He skimmed his fingers down his lovers skin, and back up his chest. He smiled, laughed, loved him. His lover was perfection in it's most brilliant form, and Frank had chosen him.  
_  
Frank is lonely. He doesn't like to admit it but he is deeply, achingly, disgustingly lonely. He misses his lover like he misses alcohol, he misses his lover like he misses the ability to feel any emotion besides cleanliness or the need to clean.  
  
 _Frank kissed the hollow of his lover's neck, the gentle dip of skin between his collar bones. He smiled against his lover's neck, told him that he was beautiful, because he truly was. Frank rolled his lips softly against his lover's body, his teeth slid smoothly across his skin. Frank loved the man with every ounce of his very being, he made sure he knew that.  
_  
Frank stretches out further, as loose and unkempt as he can allow himself to be. His head aches, sharp and stabbing. He feels something deep in his mind tighten and roll and fill itself with sadness. His head pounds and constricts his emotions to nothing but dull pain. His skin feels too loose, he feels dirty, quite suddenly. He wants to drown himself and free himself from the dirty world around him.  
  
 _Frank kissed every inch of his lover's skin, every spot. Frank ran his fingers down every ache, traced his tongue across every sore spot, pressed his lips against every bad thought and cured it with the promise that he was beautiful. He cured it with the promise that he was loved, because he knew that one day, he wouldn't be there to heal his pain.  
_  
The real relief he needs, though, he knows is half way across the world. The cure to this pain is somewhere off enjoying himself, probably painting or drawing some new masterpiece that says he doesn't care about the troubled soul that left him in the hotel on this same night last year.  
  
 _Frank woke one morning far before his lover did. He worked quickly, placed the roses in a circle, placed the note in the center. He cried. He wished he could just write, "Out for coffee. I'm bringing you some, too, don't worry. I love you. See you soon, sweetheart." But instead, his fingers petted the roses, ran smoothly across the card as closed it, because if he stayed, he would end up killing his lover, just like all the ones before him.  
_  
Frank presses both dry, rawly clean hands against his face. He still wants to cry.  
  
 _He had not wanted to write "I'm sorry. I loved you, don't forget that. Don't try to find me. Goodbye." His fingers curled into his palms. Tears stung at his eyes. Nothing made sense. This one was special, couldn't he keep just one? He didn't want to have to kill Gerard, that was why he had to leave._  
  
Gerard liked to drink, said it inspired him to paint, and Frank hasn't gotten drunk since he left.  
But he had taken Gerard's cigarettes.  
He'd always stolen Gerard's cigarettes.  
And Frank, well, he planned on suffocating in the smoke.


End file.
